


Creative Disobedience

by waffles_007



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Bondage, Bratting, Dom/sub, M/M, Scening, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 11:34:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16660372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waffles_007/pseuds/waffles_007
Summary: Erik is a bratty sub and knows it, Sam is his Dom and loves Erik's playful nature, because they both know this kind of creative disobedience often ends in what they call 'funishment'.‘I know we have an agreement’, Erik starts typing—an agreement that Erik comes when Sam tells him to, and only then—‘but, since you’re not around’, Erik hopes this goads Sam in to a reply, ‘I guess I don’t really have to comply.’ He adds the emoji that’s sticking out its tongue to drive home his point.Erik can be bold and mouthy because Sam is 2,500 miles away, spending his summer at home in Canada. What Erik doesn't know, is Sam is on his way to Minnesota right now, and when he arrives, the consequences of Erik's insolent texts plays out.





	Creative Disobedience

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darkangel0410](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkangel0410/gifts).



> This takes place in an established relationship where all dynamics and actions are discussed and agreed to. Any negotiation, safe words, safe signals are already in place and previously implemented. 
> 
> For my best bae on her birthday because I love her and she promised to write me old marrieds in return.

It’s been dry lately. Dry and hot for Minnesota. Summer’s barely begun, but already the dirt in the enclosure Erik uses to exercise his horses is pale and cracked. The dirt crumbles under Admiral’s hooves—one of Erik’s American Thoroughbreds, standing at 15 hands, black as the Minnesota night sky, untouched by the light pollution thrown by the city lights—as they walk in steady, measured circles, and the dirt explodes in little dust clouds around their feet with each step. It’s quiet out here in the way nature is quiet, devoid of horns and sirens and the constant buzz of humanity. Instead, the air fills with the whisper of a hot breeze rustling the tall grasses, the metronomic plod of Admiral’s hooves, and the distant bubble of a creek that has yet to run dry despite the heat. It’s only a matter of time Erik thinks.

Erik pulls the brim of his hat down, covers his eyes from the glaring sun and squints off in the distance, north-east to where the bluish, purple peaks of far-away mountains seem to shimmer and wave in the heat. It’s also the direction of Roberval, Quebec. That’s where Sam is: 2,500 miles away, still spending the summers at his childhood home while training in Montreal. Erik misses him.

Erik looks down when Admiral tugs on the reigns, the supple leather tightening, and Erik notices for the first time that he’s unconsciously wound the strapping around his wrist as they’ve been walking. That feeling, the soft, used leather barely biting in to his skin only intensifies the tug in Erik’s chest as he thinks of Sam and how far away he is right now. They’d talked yesterday, FaceTime’d really, but way out here at the ranch, far from the city, the internet is slow and unreliable, and the conversation happened in starts and stops as Sam’s youthful face froze and unfroze and Erik lost bits and pieces of what was being said. It was still nice to hear his voice though, Sam’s accent thicker than usual, a byproduct of being back home—Sam breaking in to French every so often to yell something over his shoulder to some unseen person outside his bedroom.

Admiral huffs loudly, telling Erik he’s not at all pleased with the pace they’re keeping that’s slowed to a crawl while Erik’s lost in his thoughts. “Ok, ok, big guy—”

They’re out there for a bit longer and even though they’re barely trotting, Admiral’s hooves beating in to the dirt and Erik’s sneakers padding along as well, Erik can feel the warm beads of sweat trickling down his neck and it prickles along his skin, hot and sticky. By the time they’re done and Erik’s leading Admiral back to the stables, a shower is about the only thing on his mind; one that’ll rinse off the heat of the day and the grit clinging to his skin. He’ll probably jerk off too.

He texts Sam after he’s stripped off his clothing while he’s waiting for the shower to heat up. ‘Been out with Admiral all morning. Hot and dirty.’ Erik taps send and follows up his text with a selfie highlighting the way his hair is damp with sweat and the way the dust from the paddock has left a distinct line above his elbow where his bare arms met his shirtsleeve. He grins in the picture, impish and impudent, showing the dark gaps in his teeth.

‘Nothing to say?’ Erik texts a minute or two later when Sam hasn’t replied and follows that text up with another selfie, this time featuring his cock, half-hard from where he’s been idly stroking at himself while he waits for Sam’s reply. Sam hadn’t mentioned anything on their call last night about having to go out or heading to Montreal for training. Not that Sam couldn’t have plans, but it’s more that he didn’t mention anything, so Erik figured Sam would be around. But now Erik’s being ignored. He decides to have a little fun with that.

‘I know we have an agreement’, Erik starts typing—an agreement that Erik comes when Sam tells him to, and only then—‘but, since you’re not around’, Erik hopes this goads Sam in to a reply, ‘I guess I don’t really have to comply.’ He adds the emoji that’s sticking out its tongue to drive home his point.

Erik waits another few minutes, the shower water’s hot at this point, and Sam still hasn’t replied, so Erik leaves his phone on the lip of the sink and steps in under the spray, already planning to send Sam a picture of his spent cock with the caption, ‘your loss’ just to get a reaction. Erik wastes no time in lathering up his hair, running his fingers through the suds, washing the sweat away. He hears his phone ping. Then ping again, but he ignores it: he gave Sam a chance to reply, if that’s even Sam. Erik tips his head back, lets the warm water rinse through his hair, lets the shampoo run down his back until the water runs clear. He soaps up, sloughing the grime from earlier off from his arms and legs, runs his hands across his upper back and shoulders, the sticky sweat from earlier disappearing down the drain.

Erik only takes a moment to think about what Sam might do to him if he comes without permission, but then again, Sam isn’t there. Sam’s 2,500 long miles away; what is he gonna do? Glare at him over FaceTime? Make promises of punishments to come next time they’re together? Erik can handle that.

Erik’s hand finds his cock easily, soft and pliable, his half-hardon from earlier forgotten as he’d washed himself off. But now, as Erik’s fingers play along the length, his cock chubs back up again, thickening in his hand as he curls his fingers and swipes his thumb across the tip. If Sam were here, Sam would tell Erik how to jerk off: how tight his hand should be, how fast or slow he should stroke. How often he should play with the head and whether he should play with his balls. But Sam’s not there.

But then again, even if he were there, Erik would probably test Sam. Would go faster than Sam said. Would press his thumb under the crown and spend much longer playing with his tip than Sam would direct him to. Erik would bite his lip and smirk, would look down at Sam and wouldn’t even bother feigning innocence as he directly defied Sam’s words. Sam would raise an eyebrow at first, a vague challenge, setting his shoulders square. Erik would maybe slow down, would go back to stroking until the corner of Sam’s lips turned up in a smile.

Sam would tell Erik to speed up, tell him to twist his wrist. Erik would keep it slow and would drop his other hand to his balls and groan.

“Erik.” Sam would say, voice stern and laced with a warning tone.

Erik would pull at his balls, roll them in his hand and look past where Sam was standing, ignoring what his Dom was saying.

Sam would say Erik’s name again, this time a bit harsher, a bit more commanding.

Erik’s breath stutters thinking about Sam’s voice, Sam’s thick accent clipping Erik’s name and it would only serve to push Erik in to further defiance.  Erik feels his chest tighten, a momentary pang of longing rushing through him as he shakes the thoughts of what if and what would from his head.

Erik’s fantasy has made him so hard in his hand and his cock aches as his tip leaks and drips, translucent strings of pre-come glistening as they stretch and fall away to disappear down the drain. He wants to come, he _needs_ to. So much. But he’s made a promise to Sam—one that he fully intended on breaking as he stepped in to the shower, but now, standing in the now cooling spray with his dick aching in his hand and with Sam so far away, outright defiance doesn’t sound as appealing. Sam isn’t there to _do_ anything about it.

A knock at his front door, filtering up the stairs and making its way in to the bathroom interrupts Erik’s thoughts but he ignores it. He isn’t expecting anyone or anything.

The knock comes again, more insistent and rapid and loud.

Erik grumbles, lets his hand drop from his still hard cock and after shutting off the shower, he wraps a thick towel around his waist and makes his way down the stairs. Whoever is on the other side of the door deserves to be met by six plus feet of cranky wrapped only in a towel with a still hard dick.

“Jesus—one second!” Erik shouts at the door where there’s still someone on the other side knocking. Impatient fucker, he thinks. Erik flings the door open.

“Do you always answer the door half-dressed?” Sam raises an eyebrow and gives Erik a long look, his eyes drifting down to where Erik’s towel is still somewhat obscenely tented in the front. “And with…” Sam waves his hand towards Erik’s crotch. Sam doesn’t give Erik a chance to reply or even a chance to process the fact that he’s standing in Erik’s doorway rather than 2,500 miles away in Canada, instead, he reaches up and grabs Erik’s chin between his thumb and first finger and tilts Erik’s head downwards until Erik must look him. “Your texts.” Sam states plainly.

“You didn’t answer them.” Erik retorts, finding his voice after the shock of finding Sam at his door has faded.

“Was driving. You know I don’t answer when I’m driving.” Sam answers.

Erik rolls his eyes and feels Sam’s fingers tighten around his jaw when he does that. “How would I know that? You didn’t tell me you were coming.”

Sam shakes his head. “Doesn’t mean you can ignore our promise.”

“You mean my promise.” Erik smirks when Sam’s fingers tighten again.

“ _Our_ promise, Erik.” There’s a warning tone bleeding through Sam’s words when he speaks, and he uses his free hand to slip the end of Erik’s towel out from itself where Erik has it cinched at his waist as well. The thick towel drops and pools around Erik’s feet.

Sam licks his lips, a quick flick of his tongue when his eyes take in Erik’s cock.

It makes Erik shiver inadvertently.

“ _Our_ promise, Erik.” Sam repeats, slowly stepping forward without letting go of Erik’s jaw, gently turning them so he eventually presses Erik’s back against the wall next to the door. “You promised me you wouldn’t come without my approval, and in return, I promised to never push you farther than you could handle, right?”

Erik looks over Sam’s shoulder, fixes his gaze on a picture hanging on the living room wall.

“Erik,” Sam gives Erik’s jaw a slight shake until Erik returns his gaze to Sam’s face, “right?”

Erik nods. “Yes, Sam.”

“And have I _ever_ broken my promise to you?” Sam asks, leaning in until his mouth is brushing along Erik’s jaw as he speaks.

Erik shakes his head.

“Words, Erik.” Sam reminds Erik with a press of his fingers.

“No, Sam.” Erik looks down at his feet and mumbles.

Sam clicks his tongue before speaking. “Then why would you break your promise to me?”

Erik shrugs and adds somewhat petulantly, “I don’t know—you didn’t answer your phone.”

Sam pulls back slightly to look at Erik’s face. “That’s not really a good excuse, Erik.”

“I didn’t do it.” Erik mumbles because he feels like he must explain himself, but he still huffs a bit.

“I could see that, I can still see that” Sam answers, looking down to where Erik’s still hard, “but, the fact is, you thought about it, didn’t you.” Sam doesn’t phrase it as a question, it’s more a matter-of-fact observation.

“But I didn’t.” Erik replies, not letting it alone, not answering Sam’s question even as Sam’s fingers slide down to his throat.

Sam tilts his head, softens his voice incrementally as he speaks, “well, that’s not the point, is it, Erik.” Sam leans in again until his lips are pressed against Erik’s jaw. “It’s not whether or not you broke your promise, it’s about the fact that you threatened to, simply to get a rise out of me.” As Sam’s speaking his fingers are tightening along the column of Erik’s neck, never hard enough to really restrict Erik’s breath, but tight enough to make themselves known. Sam doesn’t miss the hitch in Erik’s breath, the way he feels Erik’s pulse quicken under his fingertips. “Why would you do that, Erik?” Sam asks as he pulls back once again.

Erik swallows, feels a lump in his throat where Sam’s fingers are curled around his neck. He’s so aroused right now, his erection never completely subsiding even when he’d answered the door, and now, with Sam’s fingers around his throat, his cock is aching again. He’s never questioned it, questioned why acting out and pushing limits turns him on so much, because it just _does_. It makes him, no, it makes others, Erik corrects himself, it makes others force him to submit. Because he doesn’t submit and roll over easily, there’s no fun in that, so he pushes Sam to do it for him. And Sam does. “Because…” Erik breathes out, “because if I always followed your rules, it wouldn’t be any fun.” Erik finishes with a mischievous grin.

Sam does everything he can to keep the stern façade he’s got plastered on his face as he stifles the chuckle that wants to spill from his lips at Erik’s admission; Erik’s words are exactly the reason Sam loves, absolutely _loves_ Erik. Erik isn’t easy. Erik doesn’t roll over and submit. Erik pushes and pushes and pushes. And then pushes a little bit more. He challenges Sam. Tests Sam’s patience over and over. Erik practically begs to be punished, although he’d never say it outright with words. Instead, Erik will disobey, talk back, threaten to break a rule, touch when he’s told not to, and execute any number of other directly defiant actions against Sam’s orders. And Erik does it all with a glint shimmering behind his arousal-darkened eyes and a knowing grin showing off the gaps in his teeth. Erik once called it ‘creative disobedience’. Sam _loves_ it.

“Is that so?” Sam replies, setting his tone to one that’s even and calm, pausing a moment to think before continuing. “Erik?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think I make these rules because I don’t want you to have any fun?” Sam asks, tilting his head, carefully removing his hands from Erik’s throat.

Erik waits a moment before replying, weighing his answers and ultimately chooses the word he thinks will get the most reaction out of Sam. “Yes.”

Sam raises an eyebrow but doesn’t respond, he lets Erik’s word hang between them until it’s almost an uncomfortably long silence. “Erik,” Sam’s tone shifts a bit, taking on a bit of an edge, a tenor that denotes obedience, “place your hands flat against the wall, either side of your hips. You are going to wait here. I am going outside to get my bags and you will not move.” Sam waits until Erik’s placed his hands exactly where he’s been directed to before he’s headed back out to his rental.

Erik waits until Sam closes the front door and he tilts his head back, letting it thunk lightly against the wall as he closes his eyes and concentrates on his breathing; he’s not really moving, well, he is, but he knows Sam really meant Erik wasn’t to move his hands or his feet. Erik is so wound up; the sheer thrill of goading Sam only to have Sam show up at his front door unannounced, followed by Sam immediately calling him out on his behavior has Erik tight like a spring. He’s practically vibrating out of his own skin. The playful banter they share, the back and forth, Sam questioning Erik’s actions, Erik thumbing his nose at Sam’s rules—it’s all part of what they share, and what they agreed to when this relationship started shortly after Sam had been traded.

Erik is a bratty sub and he knows it. And Sam is a Dom that likes being pushed and tested. It just _works_. Sure, there’s lines that when crossed lead to actual punishment, but this, what they’re doing right now, this give and take, push and pull, Erik’s blatant provocation looking for a reaction, this is the kind of bratty behavior Erik knows results in what they both call ‘funishment’. Something equally beneficial for both, that will end with orgasms and Sam holding Erik as he comes down when they’re both sated and satisfied and fulfilled. Erik hears Sam’s footsteps on his front porch and he straightens his head so he’s staring straight ahead, just as Sam’s left him a few moments ago.

“Good job, Erik.” Sam says when he sees Erik standing right where he left him, and Erik bites the insides of his cheeks to keep from grinning at the praise.

Erik knows it’s kind of corny to get that thrill from such a small phrase, but, well, above everything, he does aim to make Sam proud—even if he acts out more often than not.

Sam drops his bags on the floor. “Turn around and close your eyes, Erik. You’re not to move or open your eyes till I say so.”

“Do I have to?” Erik asks, testing Sam.

Sam raises an eyebrow and gives him a look that says, ‘I’m not asking twice’, and Erik turns around and closes his eyes, but not before letting out a small huff. “Stand still.” Sam directs after Erik’s closed his eyes and he’s done rummaging in one of his bags. Sam pulls out a length of dark black material and approaches Erik, folding the fabric over and over itself until it’s a thick, long band.

Erik feels Sam standing behind him and feels when Sam slips the blindfold over his eyes. Sam ties the fabric at the back of Erik’s head, not too tight, but not terribly loose either; Erik would be able to push it off if he wanted, but right now, he’s willing to wait to find out what else Sam does. There’s a definite line with Erik’s behavior, that if crossed, will cause Sam to stop and remove the blindfold, and while it might not result in any real form of punishment (depending on how far over that line Erik steps), it would definitely put a damper on the rest of the day.

Erik finds himself being turned, Sam’s hands gentle and warm, but firm on his shoulders as he’s spun around.

“Hands out.” Sam directs.

Erik extends his hands away from his sides, a small smirk on his face: he knows exactly what Sam meant, but it doesn’t mean he has to comply right away.

“Erik.” Sam’s voice holds an edge of warning as he waits for Erik to obey.

“Well, you didn’t specify.” Erik comments.

Sam runs his tongue over his teeth, Erik’s pushing, ‘creative disobedience’. “You’re right. I didn’t. Erik, extend your arms in front of your body and clasp your hands.”

Erik claps his hands with a chuckle.

“Clasp.” Sam repeats through his teeth.

Erik hears the edge in Sam’s word and threads his fingers together without another word. He’s walking the unspoken line.

“Very good, Erik.” Sam praises as he takes the soft, leather strip he’d taken from his bag and starts winding it around Erik’s wrists. He slips two fingers under the leather, testing the tightness to ensure he isn’t going to restrict any blood flow to Erik’s hands, but he doesn’t tie the ends off at this point. “Is that good, Erik?”

Erik doesn’t mean to, but he gives a small moan as a reply; the feel of leather around his wrists is a big turn on for him. Being restrained, being essentially told not to move by means of being bound rather than through words, tests him. Makes him comply, makes him obey, it doesn’t give him a choice. Truthfully, anything wound around his wrists gives him a certain _feeling_ , but the leather is that much more—it’s so soft and supple, but can bite if pulled tight, and he loves the way in the end, no matter how careful Sam is, he’s always left with subtle red marks around his wrists.

“Words, Erik. You know the rules.” Sam reminds Erik that whenever he’s asked a question Erik is expected to answer verbally, especially when they’re scening. It’s non-negotiable.

“It’s good.” Erik replies, his voice stuttering a little as he answers; it’s getting hard for him to stand still as the anticipation of what Sam’s planning builds.

“I’m going to lead you.” Sam states. “You can open your eyes, but I doubt you’ll be able to see anything.”

Sam is right, when Erik opens his eyes it’s no use, everything is pitch black, so he closes them again, it’s more comfortable that way anyway. He feels a small tug on his wrists as Sam holds the ends of the leather and feels Sam’s warm hand on his shoulder again, there for assurance as he’s leading Erik away from the wall.

Based on the direction Sam’s gently guiding him, Erik gets the impression he’s being led towards the rear of the house to the large playroom he set up ages ago when he first realized this was the lifestyle he wanted. Rather than stick the playroom in the basement where it was closed off from everything, Erik had chosen to partition off a portion of the large living room, closing in a room where the back wall is mostly glass sliding doors that affords him a sweeping view of the land and the mountains painted across the sky. It’s relaxing to him, to see the way the earth spreads and spreads out in to the distance, it gives him points of focus when he’s home alone, kneeling to clear his head. It also makes the room bright and sunny with natural light rather than the fluorescent glow he’d be playing in if he were in the basement. And at night it’s breathtaking. The wide dark sky speckled with stars as far as he can see.

The fact that the back wall is mostly glass doesn’t matter, Erik lives away from everything, surrounded by acres and acres of land that are either filled with paddocks and stables for the horses, or tall prairie type grasses that bend and sway in the hot summer breeze. No one would be out there, no one would see them. Erik likes it that way sometimes.

Sam stops Erik for a moment, only to open the door to the playroom, before guiding Erik inside and up to the bondage horse Erik commissioned a few years ago. This piece of furniture, if you can call it that, is one of Erik’s favorites and one of Sam’s too; Erik has a matching one at his home in Colorado, although they hadn’t used it much during the season. The glossy black paint covering the body of the horse is a stark offset to the bright white leather restraints with silver buckles that sit not only on the padded arm and leg rests, but also at other intervals along the body of the horse. The restraint set-up affords them the ability to set Erik in any position imaginable, and then some, while still maintaining his comfort and safety.

“Leg up, Erik.” Sam says when he’s got Erik directly behind the bondage horse. Erik sticks his leg out to the side and snickers. “ _Erik_.” Sam’s voice carries a warning.

“You didn’t use specifics, _Sam._ ” Erik says with just the slightest hint of snarkiness layered in his voice.

Always looking for loopholes, Sam thinks, and he’s sure Erik revels in it when Sam brings it on himself. Sam runs his tongue over his teeth before replying. Erik’s been testing him almost every step of the way since he showed up. “Bring your knee up, Erik.”

Erik responds by turning his head in the direction of Sam’s voice. “Which leg? How far up? Forward? Back? I need _specifics_ , Sam. I can’t be expected to read your mind.”

Sam purses his lips even though Erik can’t see him. Erik must know where they are, although he’s blindfolded, it is his house, and there’s a very good chance Erik knows exactly what Sam’s been aiming for here. He’s intentionally being difficult. “Stand still, then, Erik.” Sam reaches down, pulls on the leather strap at Erik’s wrist to raise Erik’s arms so he can place Erik’s hands on the horse to steady himself. Erik pulls back on the restraint making it difficult for Sam to lift his arms. “Erik…”

“You said not to move.” Erik’s smirking again, knowing full well what he’s doing; he’s perfected the art of creative disobedience, following Sam’s instructions to the letter and pointing out their flaws.

Sam closes his eyes for a moment and takes a breath before speaking. “Erik, if you’re not going to follow my instructions, I will do this myself. I’m going to move your arms. You are going to let me move you in to position and you are _not_ going to back-talk or take liberties with what I’ve said.”

“It’s not my fault you didn’t give me clear directions.” Erik almost snaps back, but he knows he’s right on the thin line that can cause this entire scene to go sideways if he pushes too much further. Instead he simply points it out but can’t help himself from tacking on one final comment. “I would have obeyed if you were cle—"

“ _Enough._ ” Sam’s voice says it all and Erik snaps his mouth shut mid-word. “You have pushed me and tested me since I walked through that door.” Sam says, pointing towards the front of the house even though Erik can’t see him. “Before that, even. Sending me texts, telling me that our promise meant _nothing_.”

“But—” Erik starts but Sam cuts him off.

“Quiet! You will stand there and do as you’re told, Erik.” Sam reaches down and uses the leather strap to pull Erik’s hands up to his shoulder where he places them, telling Erik to hold on to steady himself. Erik complies.

Erik feels Sam lifting his right leg off the ground, bending at the knee as Sam guides him till his leg is kneeling on the soft padded leg platform along the right side. Erik is practically trembling, wound up and completely on edge, anticipation coursing through his entire body. He’s brought Sam right to the edge, he’s acted out, pushing and pushing until he’s standing right at the very threshold of Sam’s patience. And Sam allowed it, allowed Erik to go that far, trusting that Erik knows the exact amount of acting out he’ll be afforded. And when Sam had given his final order, Erik submitted. Sam gave him what he wanted.

“I’m putting your hands on the chest pad, you need to steady yourself, I’m going to lift your other leg.” Sam explains, voice business-like and calm. Erik complies.

Once Sam has Erik kneeling on the bondage horse, he can’t help but take a step back to admire the long line of Erik’s back, the curve of his muscles, the spread of his thick thighs tapering down to strong calves. He almost wants to give Erik a sharp spanking right now, but without Erik being restrained, it’s not safe to do so, so Sam simply drags the back of his fingers down Erik’s spine without saying a word.

Erik shivers.

“I’m untying your hands for now, Erik,” Sam tells him, “You are not to move unless I move you, understood?”

“Yes, Sam.” Erik says, back straight, fingers still holding on to the chest padding. Erik digs his fingers in to the plush covering as Sam unwinds the leather strap from around his wrists. He wants to move, wants to reach out and pull Sam to him, he craves Sam’s touch, any touch.

Sam gently pries Erik’s fingers off the padding and starts a gradual press of his hand in the middle of Erik’s back until Erik leans forward and his arms come to rest on the platforms near the front on either side and his chest is pressing in to the padding he’d previously been hanging on to. Erik’s neck and chin extend further out than the padding for the chest, so he lets his head hang down; he’d be looking at the floor if it weren’t for the blindfold.

With the blindfold on, and the floor carpeted in plush, soft pilling, Erik only knows where Sam is standing when he feels Sam’s fingers at his left calf holding his leg in place as he wraps one of the white leather restraints around his ankle. The clink of the metal buckle is quiet as Sam slides the leather tongue through the metal fitting and slips the prong in to the corresponding hole in the leather to secure the restraint in place. Sam’s fingers slip underneath for second before withdrawing as Sam moves to Erik’s right leg and repeats the same motions.

Sam’s purposefully being quiet, not speaking as he secures Erik’s wrists as well, knowing that the lack of communication is probably driving Erik slowly towards insanity, or at the minimum, another outburst of disobedience. The silence gives Sam a short time to reflect as he tightens the buckles and tests the restraints to ensure Erik is secure but safe. Sam feels warm inside, pleased as he thinks through the last short while; Erik’s defiance, his penchant for exploiting loopholes. Sam knows it’s Erik’s way of being playful, of testing the waters. And he’s proud that Erik _knows_ exactly when he’s reached the extreme limits without going over, submitting when Sam puts his foot down.

Sam has always promised to only push Erik as far as Erik is comfortable, and Erik has made the same promise back to Sam. They’ve built their trust around those promises and they’ve worked hard together to ensure neither one goes too far, pushes too much.

The quiet also gives Erik time to think, time to be in his own head as the anticipation builds and builds around him. He knows Sam is testing him now, purposefully not speaking, not touching any more than necessary as Sam ensures Erik is safe. Erik bites his lip as he hangs his head, tries not to pull at the restraints around his wrists, tries not to flex his ankles to test the bonds surrounding him. He can be _good._ He can do this, because it’s what Sam wants him to do. At least he can _try_.

The silence carries on, lingering, and Erik hears when Sam flips the latch on the large glass slider and opens the door to the outside. The hushed whisper of the breeze floats by, the dry grass rustles, and Erik breathes steadily, in and out, willing himself to stay still.

It’s too much.

“Are you just _leaving_ me here?” Erik whines and immediately groans as he feels the sharp sting of Sam’s open palm across the meat of his ass. He hadn’t realized Sam had returned from the door, if he had, he might have bitten his tongue and held back his complaint. But maybe not. Erik doesn’t have the chance to contemplate on that as a flash of pain radiates when Sam’s hand slaps against his bare skin again. Erik moans and his cock twitches.

“What were you saying, Erik?” Sam punctuates his question by spanking Erik’s other cheek twice in quick succession. “Do you have a problem with what I’m doing?” Sam admires the redness his hand is making against Erik’s skin.

“No, Sam.” Erik gasps when he feels Sam’s fingers tracing small patterns against his skin, Sam’s touch so gentle in contrast to the last few moments. The gentleness is broken by another sharp sting as Sam brings his hand down against Erik’s skin once more.

Sam continues, spanking Erik, dragging his fingers along Erik’s reddened skin, spanking again, then occasionally dipping his fingers between Erik’s cheeks and teasing at his rim until Erik is wriggling against his restraints.

“Keep still, Erik.” Sam directs, and Erik groans and tries to grind his hips against nothing, earning him another spank. Erik may not be talking back, but he’s still pushing Sam, taunting Sam in to further punishment.

The way the bondage horse sits is not unlike a regular sawhorse, so with his legs pinned to the sides and bent over resting on the chest padding, Erik’s cock has no pressure, nothing to press against but the wide-open inverted vee of the piece. It’s maddening. It’s frustrating. He’s been hard since he started stroking himself in the shower and now it’s only intensifying as Sam continues his assault on Erik’s ass. And what’s driving Erik most crazy, is the uneven rate at which Sam brings his hand down, sometimes flat, sometimes cupped for a more intense impact, and Erik can’t tell what to expect next.

Each time Sam spanks him, his body lurches forward, kept safe by the padding on the horse, but his balls swing and his cock bobs and it aches so much from wanting to come. Getting spanked probably won’t take him over the edge, it rarely pushes him to the absolute brink of no return, but Sam knows this too, so he teases Erik, slowing things down just enough to lull Erik in to a sense of _finally_ , and _release_ , when Sam’s fingers circle around his rim and drop lower to caress his balls. But that only lasts seconds before the sting of Sam’s hand is back and Erik is moaning and groaning and starting to curse at the overload.

“C’mon, Sam, c’mon, fuck!” Erik pleads, or more likely, demands which never has the effect he wants, but he still does it. He can’t help himself, it’s in his nature to keep pushing, to keep talking back, to keep openly goading even when he’s not sure how much more he can truly take. But Sam knows, Sam will never push Erik any farther than he can take.

“What’s that, Erik?” Sam scratches his fingernails lightly against Erik’s red and sore ass, little drags down and up, side to side, watching Erik’s spine as Erik shivers at the sensation.

“Just _do_ something!” Erik whines and clenches his fists expecting another series of blows to land on his stinging skin, but it doesn’t happen. He’s slightly surprised when he feels Sam’s hand cup his shoulder, Sam’s thumb rubbing small circles over his skin. When Sam steps back and removes his hand, Erik feels lost for a second—although he’s being spanked and while most people don’t see that as intimate touch, to Erik it is and the loss of even the small connection of Sam’s fingertips on his shoulders is too much.

“Sam…”

Erik hears some rustling, thinks he hears a muffled metallic clink that normally he associates with the bondage restraints being loosened, but when he tests the leather, it’s all still in place, so he’s unsure what he’s heard. There’s a bit more rustling and suddenly Sam’s finger is under Erik’s chin, tilting his head up from where it’s been hanging and it’s not really uncomfortable but it does pull a little so Erik opens his mouth to complain and instead of that, he feels the tip of Sam’s cock sliding past his lips, through the wide gap in his teeth and he’s got Sam’s dick in his mouth.

“Maybe this’ll keep you from talking?” Sam wonders aloud and slowly rocks his hips, never sliding much more than the tip in to Erik’s mouth. He can see the position isn’t entirely comfortable, the cords of Erik’s neck standing out as Sam holds Erik’s head up, but they have a system, safe words, and safe signals, that if it were really too much for Erik to handle, Erik would let him know. Sam sees none of those signs.

He takes in Erik from this viewpoint, looking at him from the front rather than the back where he’d been stationed previously. Sam sees that Erik is basically vibrating, little muscle twitches on his legs and arms, probably tired from being kept in this position. Erik almost quivers, Sam can see the movement in Erik’s shoulders when he looks down past the blond head situated at his cock. Sam knows there isn’t much longer, Erik won’t take that much more.

Erik takes it. Takes it when Sam slides his cock in to his mouth and starts a slow mouth-fuck, barely more than the tip, using Erik’s mouth for a hole to keep him quiet. And Erik’s cheeks flush red, being used, being told to keep quiet, like he’s nothing more than a means to Sam’s pleasure and Erik grumbles, protests how he can with a dick in his mouth and no way to move. Erik’s groan pulls a mirrored sound from Sam when the vibrations run through the head of his dick and Erik feels Sam’s other hand winding in to his short hair and pulling, then holding him still.

“Erik.” Sam warns and groans again when Erik, even with his mouth full of cock and fully restrained, hums and groans again in response. This won’t get Sam off, just sliding his tip in to Erik’s waiting mouth, but he knows what will get him off, and will probably draw a fairly justified reaction out of Erik, his ‘punishment’ for all the back-talk and sass.

Sam withdraws his cock, lets it drop out of Erik’s mouth and gently lowers Erik’s head till it’s hanging again. Sam’s fingers undo the knot tying Erik’s blindfold in place, telling him what he’s doing, instructing Erik to keep his eyes closed until the blindfold is off, then telling Erik to open his eyes slowly, to take his time letting his eyes adjust from the stark darkness to the brilliant natural light that fills the playroom.

Erik blinks, and blinks again, staring down at the plush carpet and Sam’s feet while his eyes come back in to focus and he wants to lift his head, but frankly, his muscles ache and he’s still so wound tight it seems much to hard to do so. Thankfully, Sam knows this and gently raises Erik’s head again with a strong hand wrapped along his jaw. Erik looks up, Sam’s hard cock is inches from his face and Sam’s other hand is on it, stroking fast, playing with the tip. Erik can hear the small breaths being punched out of Sam as he jacks his cock and right when Sam groans Erik closes his eyes again as he feels Sam’s warm come splash across his face.

Erik feels so used. And he _loves_ it.

The warm come sliding down his face, clinging to his cheeks, dripping down his nose and on to his lips, allowing Erik to slip his tongue out of his mouth to taste what Sam has given him.

“So pretty like this.” Sam whispers, probably more to himself than to Erik as he lowers Erik’s head back down. He gives Erik a quick squeeze on the back of his neck before walking back towards Erik’s legs. “It’s almost over, Erik.” Sam comforts and runs his hand down the inside of Erik’s spread thighs. Just casual touches, caressing Erik’s skin, feeling the muscles tight and quivering under his fingers and Erik has been so good, _so_ good for him, despite the creative disobedience—that really is the whole point of this, isn’t it?

Sam reaches his arm between Erik’s spread legs, leaves his other hand on the small of Erik’s back and wraps his fingers around Erik’s aching and dripping cock. It doesn’t take long at this point and Sam doesn’t ask for quiet or ask Erik not to move, he’s put him through enough and Sam strokes and strokes and feels Erik’s back shaking.

“Come.” Sam whispers  the word and Erik lets out grateful sobs and a shout and comes, spilling over Sam’s fingers and on to the carpet below.

Sam can feel the little spasms in Erik’s back as he tenses and spills, and when Erik’s cock is spent the change under his hands, Erik completely letting go of what’s had him wound like a spring.

Sam acts quickly now, undoing the restraints around Erik’s wrists, helping Erik back up to his knees, telling him to hold on to the chest padding while Sam undoes the leather at Erik’s ankles. “Just a little more, Erik. Just a bit.” Sam soothes as he helps Erik with one leg then the other till Erik’s feet are back on the ground. Erik practically sags against Sam, all 220 pounds and 6 plus feet of him leaning heavily as Sam guides him over to the oversized couch Erik keeps against the side wall for exactly moments like this.

“You were so good, Erik, so good.” Sam keeps a running dialog of praise as he helps bring Erik down on to the couch, as he unfolds a light blanket across Erik despite the warmth filtering in through the open slider. Although it’s not cold at all, this play, the scening, always brings about a change in Erik as he comes down from the high he’s been on and Erik likes the comfort of warmth wrapped around him and Sam by his side as his brain buzzes softly between his ears. “Getting you water.” Sam tells him and barely leaves Erik’s side to pull a bottle of water out from the small mini-fridge sitting just to the right of the couch arm.

Sam uncaps the water, holds up Erik’s head and softly tells him to drink, tipping the bottle so Erik has no work to do. Afterwards, Sam helps Erik stretch out on the couch, it’s deep enough Sam can slide in behind him, and Sam holds Erik, arms wrapped tightly around him, hands clasped with Erik’s under the light blanket.

Erik feels the buzzing in his head, it’s fuzzy and a bit disorienting, but he knows Sam is holding him and Sam’s quiet words of praise blend in with the static and it’s comforting as he lays, completely spent and exhausted. He’ll ask Sam about his surprise visit later, they’ll make dinner, they’ll fuck proper and curl up in Erik’s big king-sized bed, but for now? As long as Sam holds him tight, that’s all Erik needs.


End file.
